Knave of hearts, p.1
Knave of Hearts, page 1
Knave of Hearts
A Billionaire Romance
House of Cards
Book One
Morgan Lennox
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Preview of QUEEN OF HEARTS…
About the Author
Chapter One
Briar
I wasn’t looking for a complete knave. But then, who was?
The club was hot, and sticky, and crowded. Normally, that would be perfect—it was rare that I didn’t know at least half a dozen people at the Underground Club, and it was always possible to have a good night alone.
But tonight, for some reason, it didn’t feel right.
“Hullo darling!” shouted a man as the DJ brought the music down low, the dancefloor absolutely throbbing thanks to his skills at the decks.
I sighed, and tried to smile at the guy who’d made his approach.
In a way, I couldn’t blame him. I was here, wasn’t I? And clearly alone—at least, my sister Evelyn had just gone to grab us another pair of drinks, so I looked alone.
“Let me buy you a drink!” the guy yelled, with that sort of grin that showed me I should be grateful.
My smile sharpened.
Men. They were all the same. A couple of quid in their pocket, and they thought they were God’s gift.
He couldn’t recognize me, of course. Anyone who did would have known it was foolish attempting to offer to buy my good favor for the night.
“No, thank you,” I yelled, adjusting my tight red dress that had seemed a perfectly good idea when I’d been getting ready in my penthouse flat just hours ago. Evelyn’s idea.
“Then you should buy me a drink, Briar Weatherford,” he said with a leer. “Come on, you’re absolutely loaded! Buy me a drink—all the drinks. Buy me the bar!”
Try as I might, my smile faltered.
Yes, that was all I was good for, wasn’t I? My money. Why were all men the same? Why did none of them bother to look past myself, why I was, the name and the wealth?
The guy hadn’t introduced himself and slung a hot arm over my shoulder. “I can show you the greatest night—”
“I highly doubt that,” I said curtly, shrugging him off. “Please, leave me alone.”
He stepped back, opened his mouth as he looked at me closely, then froze. “You—really are—I was just kidding, I thought you looked like her! You’re not—”
“Yes, I'm Briar Weatherford,” I said wearily.
It always happened. At least in this case it was a good thing—being recognized as one of the greatest heiresses in Britain typically had this effect on men. It was useful when being accosted in clubs or hit on in my favorite bar.
I pushed aside the nasty thought that rose.
And it was very unhelpful when I was actually trying to make a connection with a person.
Briar Weatherford. I’d seriously considered changing my name, but the press would get hold of that, wouldn’t they? No court records were safe from them, and soon I’d be just as hounded as a Sarah, or a Rachel, or whatever name I chose.
“I-I'm sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s fine,” I said, my heart warming to him. Poor bloke, he’d had no idea he was hitting on a woman who could quite literally buy this club and everyone in it. “Have a great night.”
He probably wished me the same. I didn’t know, he retreated so fast I didn’t hear what he said.
“What did you do to him?”
I turned round and grinned at my bestie as the DJ ramped up the pace and the dancefloor threw up their hands in the air as one.
“Oh, you know,” I said airily over the noise as I took the vodka and cranberry from Evelyn. “Being Briar Weatherford. Terrifying him out of his wits.”
“All in a day’s work for you, then,” grinned Evelyn. “Seriously, he didn’t know who you were?”
My smile, again, became stilted.
She meant well. And Evelyn got it, in a way. She was just as wealthy as I was, though she’d actually earned her money. We’d met at one of those fancy retreats in Switzerland that I'm sure British royalty has been sending their daughters to since forever.
But Evelyn was the sort of rich most people dreamed of. Enough to live on in luxury without ever having to worry, she was a billionaire with an actual job. No trust fund for her.
Not like mine. Mine made the Spencers look poor.
I know, I know. Rich girl complains about being rich, right? What a bore.
But I was tired of it. Tired of always been viewed as my bank balance, tired of nice men running toward me with hopes of never working again, or running off just because they saw the pound signs as a threat. Tired of never being treated like a brain, just a wallet.
“I'm heading out,” I said, handing Evelyn back my drink.
Her dark eyes widened in surprise. “What, you’re not going home? It’s not even ten!”
“I just…I'm not feeling it,” I said with what I hoped was a cheery smile.
Not after the day I’ve had. I should never have allowed her to convince me to come out in the first place, but she was almost impossible to say no to. But after being spoken down to by my accountant, laughed at by one of my investors when I had the audacity to actually ask about my property portfolio, and told sweetly that I shouldn’t ‘worry my little head about it’, I was done.
Done with the club. Done with being Briar Weatherford. Done with all of it.
“He wanted you to buy him a drink, right?”
I nodded with a shrug. “That’s all guys ever want.”
“You’ll find a guy who actually values you for you, I promise,” Evelyn said with a beaming smile. The smile of a woman who had already found her happily ever after. “You really will.”
“You just keep believing that,” I said above the noise. “But honestly, I'm going to get out.”
“You want to get a taxi home together?”
Evelyn looked worried, and I tried to reassure her. “I’ve got the limo on standby and I’ll swing by the 1908 Bar first, just for some water. I’ll be fine.”
Her glare was stern. “You message me when you get home, you hear?”
I saluted as Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Yes ma’am!”
Her fist careered gently into my arm. “You know that I just want you to be safe.”
“I know,” I said, hugging her swiftly and making sure not to spill either of the drinks in her hands. “Now, take those fine drinks and dance. Or go home to that smoking hot boyfriend of yours.”
Evelyn lifted a teasing eyebrow. “You think he’s smoking hot?”
“Do I have eyes? Sure,” I shrugged, adjusting the straps of my dress and taking a deep breath. “At least one of us has their happily ever after.”
The London air was sticky, but thankfully not as warm as inside the Underground Club. I took a deep lungful of air, desperate to find my equilibrium again.
Tomorrow, everything changes, I promised myself as I strode down the street toward the 1908 Bar, our favorite bar. Tomorrow, I would be the new Briar Weatherford. Responsible, insightful, involved in her own affairs.
No longer leaving life to be lived through my ‘people’.
The 1908 Bar was busy, as I expected, but the barman recognized me immediately.
Of course he did.
“No tables I'm afraid, Briar,” he said conversationally, as if I’d already spoken. “Perhaps you could find someone to share with?”
“I'm just here for a water,” I said, leaning on the bar and glancing about the place.
As expected, the 1908 Bar was filled with people who looked as though they’d stepped off the red carpet. Perfect hair, gorgeous nails, and guys with more chiseled forearms than I saw save in a magazine.
Most people my gaze flickered over looked back, just the once. The recognition was almost immediate every time, though the reaction was different.
My cheeks heated as I took in the stares, the swift looks away, the muttering, the whispering.
And this, I reminded myself, was why I so rarely went out these days. No wonder Evelyn had to convince me. It was like being in a zoo, but I was the only exhibit.
Every single person I saw was the same. The same reaction, the same—
Perhaps not everyone.
He was tall. At least, he looked tall. He was lounging in a way only the very wealthy or the very selfish do at a bar; all over a corner booth. Despite his broad frame there was strength, not heft in his build. A light dusting of dark stubble outlined his taut jaw, and his eyes—
I looked back quickly at the bar as the barman brought over my water, my heart racing, my cheeks surely crimson with the heat.
Which was ridiculous. It was just a guy, looking at me.
Just a handsome guy. Looking directly at me, no shame, no darting gaze when he realized who I was. No, that man had just looked at me, a teasing smile on his lips, his eyes dancing with a wicked delight.
Now that was different.
“You heading home?”
I blinked at the barman, who had to repeat his question before I realized what he was asking. Focus, Briar! “N-No. No, I think I’ll go find a seat. Join someone’s t
Whatever possessed me to say that was now propelling me forward, as though there was nothing better in the whole world than going up to a random stranger and asking to join their table.
What was wrong with me?
Even before I turned around and started walking, I knew where my feet were going to take me. That guy in the corner booth. There was something electric about him, something utterly different from every other man who I had ever met.
He…he hadn’t known who I was.
I was standing before him far sooner than I had expected, and I hated how my voice cracked as I said, “M-May I join you?”
The man’s lips tilted into a broader smile. “I won’t stop you.”
It wasn’t precisely the resounding endorsement I had expected, but hey—it wasn’t a no.
This was the time to be bold, I told myself. How often, after all, did I have the chance to sit and chat with a guy who had no idea who I was?
“Are you waiting for someone?” I said, as lightly as I could manage.
Was I as transparent as I thought, cheeks burning? It wasn’t so direct as to ask if he had a girlfriend, was it?
The guy grinned. “Maddox. And no, I'm not waiting for anyone else. I was waiting for you.”
On the lips of almost any other guy, that line would have been absolutely ridiculous. I would have rolled my eyes, given a cutting remark, and strode out of there with my water.
Yet somehow, spoken by Maddox…it was different.
Honest. As though he had somehow predicted I would be here, and all he’d done was ensure he was in the right place to meet me.
“And you are?”
A shiver rushed down my spine. Not being recognized…it was something I thought I’d have to go abroad to achieve, and even in the Seychelles the local paparazzi had followed me within days.
Unknown. Anonymous. Able to do anything without this Maddox knowing I was one of the richest women in Britain.
It was heady.
I sipped from my bottle of water. “My name is Briar.”
“Briar? Unusual name,” Maddox said, his dark eyes flickering over me.
Oh, hell. I should have used a fake name.
Well, it was too late now—and besides, he clearly didn’t know who I was, or he would have disappeared as quickly as all the other guys.
This may just be the most interesting man I have ever met.
Maddox
She was the most interesting woman I had ever met.
Well. I hadn’t exactly met her. I’d spotted Briar Weatherford, heiress extraordinaire, the moment she walked into this place.
You just didn’t expect to see people of her caliber in a place like this. Our caliber, I supposed. Oh, I didn’t have access to the fortune I was due, but then that was my own damned fault.
Steal from the company, get thrown out. It was a tale as old as time.
Except it had been my family’s company.
“You heading out or heading home?” Briar asked, gazing out at me through delicate lashes.
My stomach stirred.
Okay, fine. Not my stomach. A little lower than my stomach. Still, something stirred, and I hadn’t excepted it.
She was pretty. Beautiful even, if she could ever bring herself to look at me properly. How did a woman with such fine eyes and such swelling curves become so…shy?
I shrugged. “Not heading anywhere in particular. Just seeing where the night will take me.”
Briar raised a dark eyebrow and I tried to focus on that, and not the way her breath hitched in her throat. Or the way that breath caused her breasts to rise, just for a moment.
Something quivered down the back of my neck. I swallowed. I was not going to let this woman see just how swiftly she could affect me.
“Seeing where the night will take you?” Briar repeated. “Sounds like you don’t have anyone to see, Maddox. Maddox…?”
Try as I might, I couldn’t quite keep the grimace down.
Maddox Cartice. I was notorious, I knew, and not for the reasons I had hoped this time last year.
The Cartices had formed the most exciting company in London, New York, Tokyo—you name it, we were going to be world famous.
All I needed was a little excitement. Who could blame me? It was our company, after all. Who cared if I took a little off the top, just while I was getting on my feet?
Everyone, as it turned out.
I swallowed, then turned on the charm that I knew so well. “Just Maddox, if you don’t mind. What’s life without a little mystery? They call me a knave, after all. May as well live up to that.”
Briar laughed, her gaze darting down to her hands grasping her bottle of water, then back up to me through heavily mascaraed lashes. “Mystery, huh? I suppose you don’t want to know my surname either, then?”
Leaning back as nonchalantly as I could manage, I took in the sight of the tight red dress, the stained red lips, the way she was evidently trying not to look directly at me.
My God. Briar Weatherford.
I’d heard about her, of course. Who hadn’t? One of the richest and most ditzy women in London—that was the gossip. The newspapers said that she had a whole crowd of advisors round her because she couldn’t make her decisions. The gossip columns said that she was never tied to anyone because those same advisors never let her.
Yet here she was, alone and clearly assuming I’d know who she was.
And I did. Obviously.
But she didn’t have to know that.
“Briar will do,” I said with a grin. “Having a good night?”
There it was—the surprise, the dissonance in her eyes. Evidently, Briar couldn’t believe I had no idea who she was.
And that was just fine by me. I didn’t want any notoriety, any cameras popping my way. I’ve only just lived down the scandal when my siblings threw me out of Ludere Enterprises. The last thing I need was more speculation about what I was up to.
Drinking at the 1908 Bar had become a habit, I suppose. Not doing anything was a habit.
But this woman? This woman was different.
“You know, you’re very handsome man, aren’t you?”
I blinked.
“But then you do know that, don’t you?” Briar said, her lips lilting into a curved smile. “What do you do?”
What do you do?
It was the question everyone asked in London. The swiftest way to categorize someone. Worth knowing, worth buttering up, worth leaving behind.
“I invest,” I lied.
It wasn’t a complete lie. Ryan, my oldest brother and CEO of Ludere Enterprises, had been good about that. A severance package that had far more zeroes than I deserved, and freedom to stay in my penthouse flat.
More than most people. Significantly less than my siblings would be worth, once they gained more investment into—
“Invest?” Briar repeated.
I tried not to look at her lips as she took a sip of her water. Dear God, did the woman have any idea that the whole bar was staring at her?
Or did she know, and simply not care?
“It’s not as boring as it sounds,” I said, a strange desire to impress rising in my chest. “It’s actually—”
“Oh, I know investors,” Briar said dismissively. “I suppose you’re one of those people who mark up a person’s worth just by looking at them.”
A wicked smile crept over my face. Two could play at that game. “I sure can. Take you, for example.”
Briar brought a hand to her chest. I took the chance to look at it, red fingernails and gold rings, pressed against that firm, tanned skin.
Christ.
“Take me?”
“Don’t tempt me,” I growled, losing control just for a moment. Clearing my throat, I continued, “You’re wearing designer clothes, the gold on your fingers is real—”
“You can tell?”
“And you didn’t pay for your water,” I finished, tilting my head slightly. “That tells me you have a tab here—and only the very wealthy have a tab at the 1908 Bar.”
Briar flashed a smile. “Or I stole it.”
“I doubt that.”
“Or I gained it through my feminine wiles,” she countered, leaning forward. A necklace swung between her breasts, tempting me to look down again.
